Reluctant Desire
by RebelWade
Summary: Sequel to Need. Elliot makes his way back into Olivia's life unexpectedly. You can read by itself, but reading through Need might help make more sense of it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: You can read this story on its own, but it will make the most sense if you read my story ****_Need _****first, as this is its sequel.**

* * *

She hardly notices when the plane takes off on her flight back to New York. Her mind is swarming with questions. It was supposed to be a quick trip to Chicago for an undercover sting. She had no idea it would leave her so lost and confused.

_"Thanks for doing this, Olivia," Hank says. "Our women on the unit are young and inexperienced. I need someone who knows what they're doing do pull this off. And it helps that you're familiar with the case."_

_Olivia takes the manila folder that Hank hands her. "It's been a few years, but this guy stuck with me," she says. "Anything I can do to catch the bastard. I'm just sorry we couldn't get him before he moved his ring to Chicago."_

_Hank nods. "We are Michael and Annabelle Wilson. Doctor and stay-at-home wife with a side business in buying children as sex slaves. Hackett moved his business to the basement of a bar called Richards. I've infiltrated a bit already, frequenting the bar and implying that I was directed their way to buy the 'products' sold there. I mentioned that my wife was also interested, so they wanted both of us to come in. There are also plenty of regulars there… some really good people. Most have no idea what's happening right beneath them. Once we go down and make the deal, our backup will be in to bust the place."_

_Olivia suppresses the disgusted shiver that rolls down her spine at the thought of acting like she wants to buy a child. "Alright," she says in a tone that accepts this identity only by obligation. "Lead the way, 'Michael.'"_

* * *

_"Annabelle, this is Virginia, one of the best bar tenders in the city!" Hank says as they walk into the bar._

_Virginia holds a hand out to greet Olivia. "So nice to finally meet you, Annabelle! Hank talks about you constantly!"_

_Olivia smiles and laughs lightheartedly. "Only the good things, I hope!"_

_"According to him, there is no bad," Virginia says with a wink._

_"Ginny, would you let Mr. Hackett know I'm here?" Hank asks. He hangs his arm over Olivia's shoulder and she returns the couple-y gesture by embracing him from the side. Virginia nods and disappears through the kitchen door._

_Hank turns toward the crowd and points to a group of people throwing darts in a far corner. "Let me introduce you to some regulars," he says. He takes her hand and leads her to the corner. "Belle, baby," he says to Olivia, "Meet some fine folks I've gotten to know here. This is Tonya, Ashley, Blake," he points to each person respectively prior to Olivia shaking their hands. "And THIS bastard," he slaps a hand to the back of a man's shoulder as the man throws a dart. "Is Mark Tilman, a criminal justice professor at Rockford. Fascinating stories this guy has up his sleeve!" _

_Olivia feels the blood rush completely out of her body when Elliot Stabler turns around. Her heart races, vision tunnels, and there's a ringing in her ears that muffles the rest of Hanks introduction. "Buddy, this is my lovely wife, Annabelle."_

_Elliot looks just as stunned as she knows she does. He stares at her with wide eyes, then they flit to Hank. He's putting it together, realizing she's undercover, and probably discovering for the first time that his friend Michael isn't actually Michael. Then she remembers where she is, what she's doing, and how important it is. She swallows, then lifts her shaky hand. "Nice to meet you, Mark."_

_The touch of his palm to hers is all she needs to know that this is real, not a dream, not a vision. It's Elliot. What the fuck is he doing here? Is he undercover too? Has he been undercover this entire time? Four years?_

_There was a time when she hoped she'd run into him. A time when she prayed it would happen. A time when he was all she could think about because he was all she had. _

_But that was then._

_This is now._

_That time passed. Pain turned into hurt. Hurt morphed into anger. Anger grew into resentment. Desire…_

_Well, she found other ways to deal with that._

_She thinks through the last few years of her life. All the unreturned texts, phone calls, his phone eventually being disconnected. She always just assumed he was an asshole and finally decided it was time to rid himself of her. Was it this? An undercover gig in Chicago? And in all that time drinking and throwing darts at bars, he didn't have time to call? _

_She forces herself out of her daze and turns to Hank. She's happy to see that everyone else is making small talk and they havn't noticed the stare-off between two supposed strangers, but she knows that she and Elliot have to at least acknowledge what's going on before either of them can move on._

_She rests her hand on Hank's arm. "Michael, honey, I'm going to go freshen up in the ladies' room."_

_He leans over and kisses her cheek. "Ok babe, be quick." _

_She checks the stalls for any other patrons and waits. She knows it won't be long. Her stomach is fluttering, churning, turning her food over like laundry in a washing machine. She's leaning onto the counter to catch her breath when she sees him step through the door in the mirror._

_She turns around. The door closes behind him and they both stand there, staring. She's not sure for how long._

_"Liv." _

_There's shock and warmth in his voice and she hates it. She's spent the last four years despising every memory of him and, yet, in one syllable he's made her weak. _

_Memories flood her mind of her captain telling her that her partner retired, and that need to duck into an interrogation room and weep fills her chest, but as she watches him for a few shocked moments, she sucks in a breath, and chooses not to feel it. She has a new life now, one she would never have if he was still with her._

_He steps toward the stalls._

_"It's clear," she says, shortly. "You think I wouldn't check?"_

_He stops. "You're undercover?"_

_She nods once._

_"And Michael, he's…"_

_"Not Michael," she confirms. She wonders if he's UC with the feds if he's that unfamiliar with Hank._

_She watches him, and hates the way she knows his face, hates how she knows he has just one more wrinkle than he did four years ago, right between the brows he furrows so often. He's toned, but maybe not quite as much, and his hair is still cropped and neat. She still feels out of breath as she takes him in, and she's not sure if anger or sadness will be expressed when she says it, but she has to ask. "You've been undercover this whole time?"_

_His eyes are still looking at her like he's in shock, and he opens his mouth to answer, but the door swings open again. "I... it's not—"_

_"Sorry!" a woman sings. "Really gotta pee!"_

_Olivia gets a glimpse of the bar before the door closes again and see's Hank behind the counter, shaking hands with a large, dark man she recognizes as Hackett. She shakes her head. She can't deal with this right now. Not while she's working._

_As the woman shuts the stall, Olivia turns the faucets on as high as they will go, then holds her hand under the loud air-dryer to activate it. When there is enough noise, she pushes down the sickening feeling in her stomach and leans up to Elliot's ear. "You and your friends get out of here now. It's not safe." She starts to go, then turns around, speaks quietly to the back of his head, watching him through the mirror. "And… you don't deserve to hear this, not in the least, but I need it… Goodbye, Elliot." She watches through the mirror as his eyes close, then she leaves him in the bathroom with her solid warning to get the hell out._

And she assumes he did. She thinks about it as the plane's turbulence sloshes a bit of her drink onto the tray. She and Hank worked Hackett effortlessly, made the deal to buy a twelve-year-old girl, and the Chicago PD raided the entire bar, busting the trafficking ring and saving countless children, but unfortunately, Hackett got away. When they came back out of the bar, she didn't see "Mark" or his friends anywhere.

She should be elated. She should be celebrating. Even with Hackett out there somewhere, this is a huge victory in her line of work. But all she can think about is that rat bastard and the odds of running into him after all this time. Images flash through her mind of the last time she was with him, the night he shot Jenna. Her heat in his mouth as he penetrated her with his fingers. His glassy blue eyes boring into her as he buried his erection deep inside her. The brush of her hair with his hand, his kiss.

She pops her eyes open, not realizing she had closed them, and she chastises herself for getting swept up in the memory. He left. He hurt her beyond any pain she had felt at that point in her life.

Until he hurt her even more, probably without knowing it.

Because no matter what—if she were undercover, hiding out, changing her name, or just generally trying to stay away from him—regardless of her circumstances, she would be at his side in a heartbeat if she knew he was in danger. If she knew he was taken, kidnapped, tortured, and assaulted in a beach house for half a week.

But it doesn't matter. He's gone. She moved on. She learned to numb herself to his abandonment and made a life outside of him. Seeing him for five minutes doesn't change any of that.

* * *

Before she knows it, she's back home, and an Uber has dropped her off in front of her apartment building. Riding the elevator to her floor, a smile forms on her lips in anticipation of seeing her boy, who she knows will probably be asleep, but secretly hopes he will be up late.

When the doors open to her floor, though, her smile fades faster than she can process the image in front of her.

He's there… Elliot. Asleep outside her door, his back against the wall in a slump, a baseball cap covering his face. If she wasn't so familiar with his frame, she might not have recognized him, but she knew as soon as she stepped off the elevator.

She wonders if he went to the airport as soon as she told him to leave the bar. She was only in Chicago for a few more hours after their bust. She wonders why she mattered to him now, just because he saw her after four years of nothing.

She's free now to do whatever she wants. She's not undercover anymore. She wonders what kind of satisfaction she would get out of kicking him while he slept. But she remembers her baby boy inside, and chooses once again not to feel anything.

But that doesn't stop her from hoping the slam of the door jolts him from his precious slumber.

"Hey, Liv!"

"Hey, Lucy," Olivia greets the nanny. "Listen, there's someone outside—"

"Elliot, yeah I know," Lucy says.

"You talked to him?"

"A little. He knocked."

Olivia huffs. "Well, thank you for not letting him in... He's has no place in this home."

Lucy's lips curve into a half-smile.

"What?" Olivia asks.

"He said you would say that. I recognized him from your pictures but told him I wasn't comfortable letting him in since Noah and I don't know him. He said I'm a good nanny and that I'm right to not let him in because you wouldn't allow him to have a place in your home yet."

"Ha. Yet?" She fidgets with her coat as she slings it over a stool on the bar.

"But he knocked to introduce himself and let me know that he would be waiting for you outside."

"So, he's a _polite_ lurker. Good for him."

"Anyway, Noah fell asleep quickly tonight. Did you get the photos I sent you from the park?" Lucy asks as she slips her jacket on and heads for the door.

"I did, thank you. I love them."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Olivia opens the door for her. "Tomorrow," she confirms.

"Bye, Lucy," Elliot says as he stands to his feet.

"Bye! Nice to meet you!" Lucy calls back.

Elliot turns to face Olivia. He stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. "Hey."

Olivia watches until the door to the elevator closes so Lucy won't have to witness whatever happens next. And honestly, she's not sure what's about to happen. She's thought of this moment countless times in the last four years and she's fantasized about punching him, slapping him, cussing, screaming, guilt-tripping.

The elevator doors close, though, and none of those options seem as satisfying in this moment as simply looking at him, void of emotion. She gives him neither happiness nor sadness, joy nor anger, relief nor tension, she just acknowledges his existence in silence because she has no idea _what _she feels.

Then she calmly shuts the door.

"Liv… We need to talk," he says, holding a hand against the door before it can close all the way.

"Fuck you, Elliot," she mutters under her breath. She shuts the door the rest of the way and walks toward her bedroom.

"Olivia… Please…" he begs through the door. "It's about Hackett."

She stops at the comment, her eyebrows furrowed, wonders if he _was _undercover for the same operation.

She makes her way back, looks curiously at him when she opens the door again.

"Can we talk?" he asks.

"Suddenly you're dying to talk?" she asks. "The irony."

"I know I screwed up. I want to explain," Elliot tells her. "At least… as much as I can."

Olivia's eyes roll. "I know everything I need to know."

_You left._

He looks around the empty hallway. "Liv, I really need you to let me in."

"Why?" she asks, not one ounce of empathy in her voice. "Still maintaining your cover?"

He drops and shakes his head. "Look, you don't have to like me or talk to me, but I _need_ to come in. If Hackett or any of his men in New York see me, I'm dead."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so glad you guys are excited about this story! I appreciate the reviews! _Need _was such a fun story for me, so I'm loving being able to build off of it! Hope you continue to enjoy some angst! ;)**

* * *

Olivia's eyes narrow at the revelation and she steps back, opening the door wider to let him into the apartment.

She isn't sure she wants to hear what he has to say; isn't sure if she's ready to hear something that would make sense of what she has long accepted would _never_ make sense.

The door shuts.

"Liv—"

"Hackett got away," she interrupts. "We busted the ring, but Hackett got out somehow."

Elliot nods. "I know. He always does. I didn't even know until today that he was in Chicago."

"Is that why you're here?"

He takes a beat, and she can tell he's soaking up her fury in a warped type of nostalgia. "No," he says. "In fact, I have a feeling that he _also _came back here."

"Then why the hell would you—"

"You know why, Liv." They're silent as they both acknowledge that he came back for her.

She shakes her head. "There's nothing here for you anymore, Elliot."

"I don't believe that."

She ignores the comment, continuing to shake her head. "How did you get involved in this? This case started after you…" _retired, left, abandoned. _Nothing sounded quite strong enough for what happened.

Elliot shifts his feet, rubs the back of his neck in a familiar shyness she always found endearing because it was such a contrast to his hard exterior. It was a nervous vulnerability he reserved only for her—whether he realized it or not. But she chose to focus on her annoyance that he seemed like he was about to evade the question.

"It's… it's a really long story."

Olivia rolls her eyes and suppresses the need to punch something. "Fine," she says. "Glad you stopped by."

Before she can get to the door to let him out, Elliot catches her by the arm and pulls her back. "Liv, please…" She stops but continues to focus on the door in front of her, avoiding eye contact, regulating her angry breaths. "I _want _to tell you. But it really _is_ a long story. You've traveled and worked all day, that boy of yours will be waking in a few hours. I just think it would be good for both of us to get some sleep before we talk."

"Go home, Elliot," she says, resolutely.

"No. Damn it, Liv, if you want to talk now, we can, I just thought it would be better if you got some sleep."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I'm not interested in hearing it anymore. Just go home."

He steps in front of her this time, forcing himself into her line of vision. "Stop." He steps forward. "Please just… stop.'

He lingers a bit before taking another step forward. She knows he's going to touch her before he does, because it feels natural. Because they spent twelve years needing each other's touch when things got emotional. But she's still surprised that he risks it after all this time… after all the pain.

He places his hand on her waist, then waits. She doesn't move, more because she feels paralyzed than it being by choice, but he mistakes it for compliance. After a moment, his other hand lightly touches her face.

The ballsy move knocks her breath away much more than she expects. His tone is low, sad, intimate, and the hurt swarms her without warning. "I'm so sorry, Liv… For everything."

Shit, she can't do this right now. She can't show Elliot how much he still affects her. She won't give him that.

"Go to hell." She feels a waver in her voice when she says it, and damn her body for betraying her by taking another couple seconds before pulling away. She speaks again when she's at a respectable distance. "Stay if you need to… if that's what is safe for you. There's a guest bedroom down the hall, but there's no bed. You can get some pillows and blankets from the basket in the corner."

"Thank you."

"I'm only doing this because you're in danger. And no matter what has happened between us, I will _always _be here for you if you're in trouble." She hopes her words cut him deep. "But don't expect anything from me… talking, friendship… we're not partners anymore, Elliot. We're not friends."

With that, she leaves for her room, getting ready for what she knows will be restless night.

* * *

She stares at the extra eggs she made the next morning, debating whether to trash them or leave them for Elliot. Compassion wins, and she decides she shouldn't starve him, especially if it's supposedly too dangerous for him to leave her apartment to get his own food.

He emerges from the guest bedroom long after she and Noah finish eating. They take a moment to look at each other. She's still unnerved at how normal it is to see him, and simultaneously how unreal it is. Her eyes move away and she picks up the blocks Noah was playing with.

"There are eggs on the stove. They're cold now," she says.

"Thanks," he replies. "Guess I slept in a little late."

Olivia shrugs. "Makes no difference to us." She picks Noah up and balances him on her hip as she slides his baby bag over her shoulder. "Lucy will be bringing Noah home from daycare and will stay here until I get home. I'd prefer if you would stay out of sight."

After a beat, he nods. "Okay."

* * *

He stayed away, like she asked. Lucy assumed he was sick since he stayed in his room the whole time she was there.

It wasn't until after Lucy left that he snuck out of the room while Olivia played on the floor with Noah.

"Always knew you'd be a great mom."

Olivia looks up at the comment, but only momentarily, annoyed that he was trying to be sentimental. She smiled playfully at Noah and squeezed his toy so it started singing some obnoxious song.

"How old is he?" he asks.

Without breaking her focus on Noah she replies, "I don't always get evenings with my son, so if you don't mind…"

Elliot doesn't push it. The next time she looks up, he was gone.

Noah climbs into her lap with a cardboard book. She kisses his head. "Oh, Sweet Boy. Have I got stories for you…"

* * *

Just to distract herself, she tidies up the kitchen after putting Noah down. Manhattan SVU is back on the Hackett case. An informant confirmed her "lead" that he was back in New York. Hackett is a trafficker, and Olivia can't imagine what Elliot did to piss the man off so bad. She's curious, yes. She thought about it all day. But she isn't ready to know.

The more distance, the less likely she is to get hurt again.

In fact, the faster she gets rid of him the less likely she is to get hurt. She sighs when she sees the leftover takeout from dinner and she gathers it into a Tupperware container.

She hands it to him when she opens the door to his room to find him reading a book against the wall.

"Thanks," he says, taking it from her has he stands. "You didn't have to—"

"It's for your drive home."

He locks his eyes into her stare. "I'm not going anywhere."

She shakes his head at his stubbornness. "You know, I could arrest you for… stalking, or…"

He lifts his wrists as if expecting handcuffs. "I look forward to the interrogation."

She seethes at his lightheartedness, pressing her lips together. "Look, you were right. Hackett is back in New York. And I don't care how or why you're involved… I honestly don't want to hear it, but I also don't want you to be in danger. You should go back to Chicago or find somewhere to stay that you'll be safe."

He takes a step closer. "Not until we talk."

"Please, just go." She's doing her damnedest to keep her cool, not blow up or breakdown. She doesn't know which will bubble over first and she doesn't want to feel either one.

He steps closer. "No."

She drops her head, shakes it.

"Olivia, I know you're mad, and I—"

"No, I'm not!" she interrupts. "I'm not mad at you, Elliot. I'm not anything. _You're _not anything to me anymore. So, stay as long as you want, but save your apologies and explanations because I don't need them."

"Liv, I need you to know… I never stopped loving y—"

Her hand cracks across his face, snapping it to the right with the force of her unexpected blow. She knows that her eyes are watery now, and all she can do is will her tears to stay at bay.

"Don't you dare!" she says with a pointed finger. "Don't you dare come to my home and say _that_ after _four years _of silence! I never want to hear those words from you again. All they ever did was hurt me."

Fuck. She's exposed herself too much.

She quickly leaves the room and rushes into her own, leaning into the slam of the door, then slides down against it. The tears she's been holding back since she first saw him fall onto her cheeks and a silent sob heaves at her chest.

His voice is muffled through the wood separating them, but there's no mistaking his words. "I love you," he says. "I will always love you. And I don't know how long it will take to rebuild what I broke, but I'll never stop loving you, Liv. And I'll wait four, ten, twenty years. Whatever it takes."

She wipes away the flood of tears that wet her cheeks. She can't listen to this anymore. When she's warm under her covers, the tears continue to flow onto her pillow and she blames herself for loving him. She knew a decade ago when she started to fall that she should have stopped it.

But it couldn't be restrained.


	3. Chapter 3

She dreamed of his eyes last night. The intensity of his stare as he pushed and pulled in and out of her the night Stucky held him hostage… The one and only night she said she loved him out loud.

The night she let her guard down.

She dreamed of the strength of his hands as they groped her breasts, his lips devouring them for dessert. She closes her eyes at the kitchen table when she remembers the way she could make him cum just by moaning his name while he was inside of her, squeezing herself around him as he—

She shakes her head and brings herself back to the present, glancing at the time on her phone. Jesus. Only 8pm. It's Saturday and she had the day off with Noah, but instead of staying home like she originally planned, she created a full day at the park and children's museum so she wouldn't have to see Elliot. They're back home now, though, Noah fast asleep after wearing him out. She passed by Elliot's room earlier to see him pressing himself off the floor in a pushup. Some things never change.

She goes to the fridge, sifts through the freezer for something to make for dinner when she hears a knock at her door.

She presses her eye against the peep hole.

_Shit. _Ed Tucker. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. He'd bought her a few drinks just last week when they met at a bar. He suggested the bourbon and she was taken aback by his friendly and surprisingly compassionate demeanor. And there was something about the rough edges, blue eyes, and that endearing compassion got to her.

She ended up in his bed.

And he ended up on top of her on her office couch the next day. In fact, she thinks they've spent more time together in the past week or so than she had in sixteen years. But as soon as Elliot showed up, Ed became the least of her concerns. Until now.

She opens the door. "Ed… I'm so sorry, I completely forgot that I asked you over tonight."

He steps in and his hands land on her waist. "That's okay… I don't mind your place being a mess."

She steps back, but he misinterprets it and steps with her, his head dipping down to her neck. "No, it's not that," she says, pushing at him lightly. He stops and eyes her curiously. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just—" She stops when Tucker's eyes flit to something behind her.

"The fuck you doin' here, Stabler?"

_Shit._

"You first." Olivia turns at Elliot's voice and sees his toned torso glistening in sweat, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His face is contorted in anger, a rage she is all too familiar with. "What's a prick-ass-rat doin' here on Olivia's day off?"

They both step in towards each other aggressively. "Stop!" Olivia yells, worried one of them might swing. She holds Tucker's arms down and pushes him away from Elliot. "Both of you stop!"

"What the hell is he doing in your apartment, Liv?"

Ed's jealously and possessiveness surprise her. They've slept together a few times, but they weren't even dating. He has no right.

"I don't know, Ed. But if you wake my son up you can say goodbye to any more invitations into this home." She turns and addresses a red-faced Elliot. "You. Go," she says, pointing to him, then down the hallway to his room. He hesitates for a moment. "Go! I mean it!" she repeats. He complies reluctantly.

She turns back once Elliot is out of sight, closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. "He's been here, staying in the _guest room_ for three days." She completely forgot Ed was coming over tonight. She would have cancelled on him if she remembered. But now that he's here, she might as well do some defusing. "He's been trying to apologize for how he left, but I've chosen not to speak to him. I'm only letting him stay here because he's under cover and it's dangerous for him to be out on the streets right now. And now I really need _you_ to swear you won't say anything to anyone."

Tucker continues to look past her, refusing eye contact. "You love 'em?"

It's none of his fucking business, but she decides to just answer and not pick a fight. "No."

The 152,183rd lie she's told about Elliot.

"Have you fucked 'em?"

"No."

152,184.

Tucker exhales sharply. "I don't know if I can stay here while he's sitting in the room across the fuckin' hall."

Olivia sighs. "I agree. I think you should go."

Ed finally looks at her, incredulous. "You serious?"

She nods. "Yeah. We're both going to be tense all night and I don't want you to lose your temper again and wake up Noah."

She watches as Ed turns away quickly, slamming the door behind him in a matter of seconds. She slumps into a chair and pinches the bridge of her nose. Then she looks back at the hallway into which Elliot retreated, and the image of him brooding in his room makes her laugh.

She knows it's the last thing Elliot expects when she steps into the guest room and sits next to him against the wall, Noah's baby monitor in her lap.

"One mention of Tucker and I'm gone," she says calmly. "Haven't missed all that rage."

He huffs a laugh. "But maybe some other things?"

She's staring at her feet in front of her when she answers with a nod. "Yeah," she whispers. "A lot of things."

"Me too."

"Elliot… You were everything to me," she confesses. "_Everything._"

"And with the exception of _one night_, you kept me just out of reach. Always waiting for us to fall apart… for me to disappoint you… for me to choose her over you."

Olivia keeps bobbing her head, unable to deny any of it. "I was guarded, yeah… I was always ready to get hurt, but… I never could have imagined…" Her words fall into their silence and she takes a few even breaths so she won't cry. "You didn't even say goodbye… you didn't say anything at all. You just… disappeared."

"I'm sorry I hurt you." He's facing her, but she can't look back at him. "I'm sorry that you always _expected_ me to hurt you… You didn't deserve that. I should have been better."

She shrugs, shakes her head. "I got myself into that mess… the affair… what I didn't deserve was losing my best friend, and the only partner I'd ever known at SVU… I didn't know who I was without you, El, and I couldn't understand why…"

Elliot takes a breath and she knows he's going to give her the answer, but she suddenly doesn't feel ready for it.

"Liv…"

She stands quickly. "Go home, Elliot. You're too old to be sleeping on the floor."

"I'll do some yoga," he quips, standing with her to say goodnight.

"Where does Kathy think you've been for the past three nights?"

Elliot lifts his hand, revealing his naked ring finger.

Olivia doesn't flinch. "S'posed to impress me?... _That_," she points to his finger, "was never an issue for us."

"Wasn't it?"

Sex versus commitment… the overarching, all-consuming, unbalanced fire that burned them for twelve years. He has a point.

She just shakes her head and turns leave.

He grabs her hand. "Please, just… don't hate me. Tell me you don't… Tell me I haven't fucked this up beyond repair."

She's hurt, yes. The word _hate _was a huge part of her vocabulary for a year or so after he left, but it was out of anger—one that could only stem from being hurt by the person you love the most. She has no idea how he could ever think she'd _actually_ hate him. She squeezes his hand, then pulls it away. Her finger points to the cabinet in the corner of the room. "There's an air mattress in the cabinet."

Elliot laughs. "And you decide to tell me this now?"

A small smirk appears on her lips. "You deserved to suffer a little."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Unfortunately, this might be my last update for a week or two (scheduled myself for way too much overtime), but this is a big one, both by word count and content, so hopefully it will tide you over! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Her eyes dart open above drenched sheets and she immediately leans over to flip the lamp on as she catches her breath. William Lewis' vomit-inducing grin is seared into her memory after yet another night terror. She pops out of bed. The last thing she wants is to go back to sleep and have that dream continue, so she does what she always does after her night terrors: shower, a glass of wine, and a sitcom.

She makes her way to the couch, her hair damp and wavy, and sips her glass of red before setting it on the coffee table. Before she can even point the remote in the direction of the tv, she's distracted by short, faint noises coming from the hallway. She peers through the crack in the guest room door. Elliot is asleep, but holding his head in his hands. She thinks he's groaning like he's in pain, and he's getting louder.

Instinct takes over and she's in his room in an instant, kneeling by his side.

"No! Put the gun down!" he cries in his sleep. "No! Please! No!"

She nudges his leg gently. "El… wake up."

He's sweating, she notices, and his entire body is clenched. She's been in bed with him countless times over the course of their partnership and she's never seen him have a nightmare. This is new.

He moans in agony again, and this time she goes for his face, taking his head in her hands. "Elliot…"

His eyes shoot open and he sits up, his breath quick and heavy. He looks terrified.

God. She hates that he looks terrified.

But her hands guide his eyes to her as he continues to hyperventilate.

"It's just me," Olivia whispers. Her eyes watering as she sees his panic, and it's such a familiar feeling that it hurts her to know he's struggling like this. "It's me. You're okay."

His eyes have been on her, but he finally wakes up and registers it. "Liv?"

She nods and presses her forehead to his. "You're okay," she whispers again. "Everyone is safe."

His breathing calms as it mixes with hers, and so many memories and feelings flood her mind when she inhales him that she has to pull back before she kisses him… It would be so easy to do.

Elliot leans back on the wall and Olivia climbs on to the air mattress to sit next to him silently.

"That night, after Jenna, and after leaving your place…" Elliot says after he steadies himself, "I didn't sleep for six days, and when I finally did, I was killing her again every time I closed my eyes. Then the dreams changed and I was shooting Kathleen… or Dickie, or Eli… And I snapped. I completely lost it… The sleep deprivation made me hallucinate. I couldn't look at my kids without seeing them dead or thinking I would be a danger to them. I secluded myself, locked myself in the guest bedroom and wouldn't come out for weeks. I… I got your messages, Liv. But I wasn't thinking rationally… And I didn't want you to see me like that."

There are so many things she wants to argue, and only a few weeks of his absence accounted for in that explanation, but it isn't the time to get into it.

She stands up, deciding she couldn't handle too many emotions tonight, and she opens the door. "Do you want to watch tv?"

Elliot shakes his head. "You don't have to coddle me, Liv. I'm okay."

"It's three o'clock in the morning, Elliot… I didn't wake up because of you."

She watches as his features fall into understanding, but she's not even sure what he thinks he understands. She has no idea if he knows what she's been through over the past four years. He stands. "Okay."

"Sit," she says, gesturing to the couch. She pours him a glass of wine, then resumes her position opposite him. She points the remote to the tv, ignoring the quizzical expression on Elliot's face.

She settles on a rerun of _Will and Grace, _and she laughs to herself. She has never shared her night terror routine with anyone. Of course Elliot would be the first.

Elliot catches on to what she's doing at some point, because he doesn't try to talk to her. They sit and watch the show, chuckling at punch lines here and there. As the episode plays, she thinks through Elliot's story. She would have helped him if he let her, if he just answered his phone. But she also knows how irrational anxiety and depression can make someone. And she realizes she didn't try hard enough, didn't push, didn't go to him, fight for him when she knew he was hurting. She was too wrapped up in her own hurt.

"Should I have…" Olivia starts. "Did you need me to go to you? After Jenna. When you were struggling… should I have gone to you at home?"

She knows the answer before he speaks because the question doesn't even elicit a reaction, like he's had the same thought a million times before. He just stares vacantly at the tv. "It wasn't your place to—"

"But did you _need_ me to?"

He sighs through his nose. "Yeah," he says quietly.

Olivia looks down at her wine, her lips pressed into a thin line. She'd thought about it at the time, but was worried about showing up and being accused of something by his wife. But it wasn't his mistress that he needed, it was his friend. His partner. "I'm sorry you went through that… that you still deal with it."

"The dreams are less frequent now… maybe once a month. Probably only happened because my sleeping arrangement changed." He pauses, and she goes back to pretending to watch tv before he asks, "You?"

She looks at him, searching his eyes for signs of what he knows, if he's implying that he assumes she has night terrors too. She may not have been there with his ordeal but she _did _try. If he knew about Lewis, she can't forgive him for not trying. She's still not sure she forgives him at all. "More often than that," she answers. Getting through the week without a night terror would be cause for celebration, but she's learned to live with them.

He nods, and now it's his turn to pretend to watch tv. She knows he's restraining himself from asking questions; he's giving her space, staying inside the boundaries she's creating. And she appreciates it. The problem is that he wants to talk, work things out, get back to what they used to be sans a wife between them.

But she's not the same. Four days at the mercy of a psychopath changes a person. Olivia is no exception.

"I don't hate you," she says.

Elliot lets out a long breath as his eyes close, as if that one sentence released a thousand-pound burden.

She stands and tosses the remote toward him. "Watch whatever you want. I'm going try and get some sleep."

* * *

"This is the last thing you're gonna think about before you die. The last thing you're gonna see."

_Liv! _She hears his voice, but all she can see is Lewis's face as he pulls the trigger.

_Liv!_ It's the most soothing, familiar voice she knows. The voice she wants to be there during Lewis' assault.

There's another voice too. A child. Amelia. She hears her cries when Lewis' blood sprays across her face. She screams.

_Liv! Wake up! Please… Please wake up. _

There are arms around her. Nick's, she thinks. His arms are embracing her as she stares at Lewis' lifeless body on the table.

The arms wrap around her, pull her against his chest. _You're at home, Olivia. It's a dream._

A dream.

_You're at home in your bed. You're with me, Elliot._

Elliot.

She opens her swollen eyes, her cheeks are wet with tears, her body soaked in sweat. She's wrapped tightly into Elliot's embrace, leaning against his back.

"You're okay. You're safe. You're at home," he repeats.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah. It's me. I'm here."

She turns. She needs to see him. See that he's really there. Really right there where and when she needs him. There when Lewis had her.

Elliot leans over as she turns so they're face to face. He presses his forehead against hers, takes her jaw in his hand. "I'm here."

She holds onto his forearm and closes her eyes. "You're here," she whispers. And she feels safe.

The dream has faded away, but the child's cries haven't. It's then that she realizes the screams are not Amelia's, but Noah's, and she's jolted back into reality. She pulls back from Elliot abruptly. No. He _wasn't_ there when she needed him. He's here long after. She turns away and practically jumps out of bed, running to Noah's room and swiftly taking him into her arms as he cries onto her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Noah. Mommy's so sorry she woke you up," she tells him. "Shhh… shhh…" She bounces her baby boy in the dark of his room as Elliot's shadow enters through the door.

She continues to comfort her son as emotions consume her. She's glad it's dark so she won't have to truly see him. She feels so vulnerable and exposed after having a night terror in front of him.

Tears well in her eyes. She keeps her voice low. "Don't do this to me, Elliot."

"Liv…"

"No—please." She keeps bouncing Noah as his cries quiet. She knows her voice is strained, but Elliot needs to know. "I convinced myself for eleven years that you would hurt me… that you would choose to be with Kathy and end things with me and leave me broken, so I treated our affair as something transient. And one day I realized you really loved me and I should have believed you, so I gave myself to you completely and trusted that you would never… _ever…_ hurt me. I let my guard down and it only took one year before you completely destroyed me. I won't let that happen again. Not to me, not to my son."

"Olivia, I'm…"

"I know you are," she interrupts. "I know you're sorry." She sucks in a breath through her runny nose. "But I don't care. It's time for you to go."

After a few deafeningly silent moments, Elliot leaves the room quietly and she spends another ten minutes easing Noah back to sleep before placing him back in his crib and softly closes the door. She leans against it and takes a few deep breaths. It's hitting her, maybe for the first time, that he's back, bringing up all these feelings again. She wants to go back to not feeling. So she heads for the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine.

It's when the _glug-glug _of the liquid leaves the bottle that he stands from the couch and startles her. She jumps slightly and spills a bit of wine. "Shit!"

"Sorry," he says as he walks into the kitchen. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She wipes up the red liquid with a paper towel, avoiding eye contact. "I thought I made it clear I wanted you to leave."

"You were upset. I was giving you time to cool down."

She turns toward him. "I wasn't just upset Elliot, I meant every word." She lets it settle, then goes back to her wine, pouring it almost to the brim, then takes a long sip.

"How often?"

She pops her head up. "How often what?"

He steps in, lowers his voice. "How often are you getting drunk to stop feeling?"

She stares at him and lets out and airy, humorless laugh. "You did not just show up here after four years and compare me to my mother."

Elliot's eyebrows raise. "No, I didn't. I asked you a question."

She's pissed, she's sad, and she wants him. She hates that she still wants him. Her cheeks are hot and she's not sure if it's out of anger, embarrassment, or the utter, desperate need coursing through her. Elliot's care for her infuriates her as much as it makes her love him all over again.

She walks past him to her bedroom. "Fuck you, Elliot. Get out of my house."

She sets her wine down on her bedside table.

"No."

She looks up to see Elliot at her door. _"Get out!" _she raises her voice, but not enough to wake Noah.

"No!" he replies. He walks in a few steps. "Goddamit, Olivia. This is what you _always_ do!"

"Excuse me?"

"You push me away, keep me as far as possible so you won't get hurt."

Olivia scoffs. "Can you blame me? Look at what happened, Elliot! I got hurt! Sue me for protecting myself!"

He runs his hand over his head in frustration. "When you came out of that night terror, you were relieved to see me, Liv. You need me. I can see it."

_"Needed! Past tense!" _She says it before she can stop herself. But it's out there now. She shakes her head, her hands on her hips, then decides to tell it to him straight. "I needed you, Elliot!" Fuck. She can't help the emotion coming through in her voice, but now she can't stop. "I. _Needed_. You. You were all I could think about for four fucking days… the _only _person I wanted to see again before I died. And you were _still _nowhere to be found when I got back home."

Elliot storms toward her, his face an inch from hers. "I _demanded_ to fucking be there!" he yells. "As soon as I heard, I was at the 1-6!" Olivia's eyes widen. "I went up there to find out what the hell was going on and I ran fucking point from the House! But as soon as they found you, Cragen told me to leave!"

"Wh-what?"

"Cragen fucking _made me _leave, Olivia! I tried to convince him that you needed me, but…" he pauses, changes his mind about something. His voice is calmer the next time he speaks. "I was there. I tried to be there when you came back… I tried. You think I could just… stay away? While you were kidnapped? Jesus, Liv… it was all I could do not to…" His fists clench as his words fall apart.

Olivia is stunned… Can't believe what she's hearing. Everything she thought about that time is morphing into something more controlled, more powerful, more caring. He was there?

"You… you were there?"

He lets out a huge breath. "I was there, Liv."

She crashes her body into his and he opens his mouth to her as soon as their lips meet. Everything else is muscle memory: the way he tastes, the way he feels, his smell, how his abs end in a perfect fucking V at his pelvis. She lets out a moan and he's lowering her to the bed as his lips land on her neck. She whips her shirt over her head, knowing his hand will grasp at her bare breast, and he does, taking every bit of her soft flesh in his hand and thrusting his hips into her core. They both groan at the contact and she reaches down to palm his erection through his pants, sighing into the familiarity of his length and the way he fits into her hand and she massages him as he moans helplessly. She hasn't been this wet so quickly for anyone since she was taken, since Lewis kidnapped her. Tortured her. Burned and branded her.

_Branded. _

_Burned._

Her heart thumps against her sternum as she comes out of her lust-filled haze, and she pushes at Elliot to get off and rolls out from underneath him, taking the bed sheet with her as she stands.

"Liv?" He stands, clearly concerned. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

She shakes her head. "No… it was me. I… I just…" She runs her hand down her face, still holding the sheet around herself with the other. She's thankful for the darkness of the room, hoping he didn't see her new scars. "Jesus…" What was she doing? There was so much her brain was trying to catch up with… how Elliot would respond to her body now that she was so marred, how he's suddenly back in her life, how he was there during her abduction.

She knows he can sense the internal struggles because he steps in just before she thinks she's going to hyperventilate, and she lets her head fall onto his chest as he embraces her.

"I didn't come here for that…" Elliot reassures her. "Not that I haven't thought in detail about it."

She playfully punches his ribs and they laugh.

She tucks the sheet in above her breasts so it stays up by itself, then she wraps her arms around him, breathing him in purposefully. Her hands glide up and down his strong back. "I can't believe you're here… that you were _there_."

Elliot nods, places a small kiss on her head. "I'm sorry I listened to Cragen. I should have stayed."

"But I don't understand. Why wouldn't Cragen want me to know you were there?" she asks.

He's silent for a moment, so she pulls back and looks up. "El?"

His eyes are averted. "Because… He's the only one that knew I left witness protection to be there."

Olivia takes a full step back, her eyes wide. _"What?" _


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for such a long delay! Been suffering from a long bout of writer's block (womp womp). I have lots of inspiration now, but unfortunately, not a lot of time. I'll try to update as much as possible, though! -RW**

* * *

"I wasn't undercover in Chicago, Liv. I'm in witness protection."

She takes another step back, holding onto the sheet around her more tightly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She grabs her shirt, throws it on, and heads out of the room before he can answer.

"Liv, where are you going?"

Olivia knows that he had to be in a hell of a lot of danger for him to agree to witness protection. Suddenly feeling a surge of protectiveness, she double checks the locks on the door and each window.

She's checking the last window and closing the curtain when he walks up behind her. "Liv."

She whips around. "Explain."

"Can we sit?" Elliot asks.

Olivia gestures toward the couch and she follows him to it, sitting next to him and turning inward.

Elliot leans with his elbows on his knees as he thinks. His mouth is open, but words aren't coming out. "Sorry," he finally says. "I haven't explained any of this in years."

Olivia just watches, unsure of how she feels about this.

"I fucked up, Liv."

She places her hand on his arm, then slides it to his hand. He looks up at her. "You can tell me anything," she says.

He nods, then lets go of her hand, which she knows is just to stay in his comfort zone while he talks. She gets that.

"I told you about the weeks after I left SVU, how I wasn't sleeping, hallucinating… I eventually started self-medicating, buying Ativan off the street."

_Shit_. Olivia closes her eyes, but tries not to say anything that will shut Elliot down.

"Kathy kicked me out months later, couldn't deal with me anymore, which I understand. But… I didn't know where to go."

"You could have come to me."

His head tilts awkwardly a little. "Yeah… I…" he stops whatever he was about to say, sighs. "Just let me finish."

Olivia's eyes narrow. She makes a mental note to ask him about that later.

"Long story short, I ended up going to Kathleen's apartment. She was a senior at Hudson at the time. I knocked, called, but she wouldn't answer. Her roommate finally showed up, told me she hadn't seen her in a few days. I asked why that didn't seem to concern her. She just shrugged and said they'd been fighting, that Kathleen was off her meds, and she assumed she was staying with some guys."

"Oh god."

"She was probably acting out because she knew I was so…"

"Kathleen's problems are not your fault, Elliot. You know that."

Elliot nods, but it isn't convincing. She can tell he takes a lot of that blame. "Well, nothing could have sobered my mind more quickly. I hit dead end after dead end with her friends until someone finally led me in the direction of some prostitutes. I went over there, acted like a John looking for a certain girl, Kathleen."

Olivia's heart speeds up as the story continues, silently praying that Kathleen wasn't sold into sex. "And?" she encourages.

"And four hours later someone leads me to Hackett."

Olivia shuts her eyes hard. "You didn't." But she knows he had no choice. It was his daughter.

"I had already isolated myself from everyone I knew, so it was easy to infiltrate."

"Elliot, that's not infiltrating. You had no contact, no back up. You could have been killed."

Elliot nods. "I know… But he had my daughter, Liv… Once I was in, about a month into my job with them, I gained Hackett's trust and he let me see his 'inventory.'"

Olivia's stomach lurches, knowing the products of the inventory were humans.

"He had two men take me to a basement below their house. Thankfully, Kathleen was smart enough not to react when she saw me." He stops for a moment, looks like he's going to be sick. "She and two other girls were college-age. The rest… The youngest must have been four. There were about thirty of them in these cages. I didn't hesitate, didn't think it through. I just reacted… pulled one of the guys guns, shot him and his partner, and started trying to open the doors. The kids finally pointed me to the keys, but I only had time to open Kathleen's door before more of Hackett's team came down. I… shot them too, but I couldn't save the other kids. I had to get out, make sure Kathleen was safe. There were seven other kids in her cell who also got out. I don't know how we got so far without anyone coming after us, but I got them all to the nearest precinct, but I knew it would be an SVU case, so I went to Cragen and told him about the ring."

Olivia's eyes widen. "_You _were the anonymous tip that led us to Hackett?"

Elliot nods. "But the FBI picked me up about two hours after I left the precinct. They told me that two of the men I killed were Hackett's sons. He has a ten million dollar hit out for me."

Olivia is sure her heart stops for at least two beats. Her head falls forward into her hands. "Jesus, Elliot."

"The next thing I knew, I was on a plane to Chicago."

"But they didn't fake your death?"

"Apparently, that's a myth. Most of the time, they just make people disappear."

Olivia's eyebrows are furrowed as she puts all the pieces together. "So, Mark Tilman. That wasn't your cover, that was—"

"My new identity."

They sit and watch each other, Olivia in a dumbfounded stare. "Wow," she says.

"Talking to you in that bathroom in Chicago… that was the first time I heard someone call me Elliot in four years."

Her head shakes in amazement. "How'd it sound?"

He smiles. "So good it brought me to your apartment door."

She meets his smile, this time freely accepting the sentiment. She's still trying to wrap her head around it. "Did you know he was in Chicago? Hackett?"

Elliot takes a big breath, lets it out with a harsh sigh. "I had no idea. I left the bathroom after you and I saw him go into the back. He had to have figured out I was there. I spent a lot of time at that bar with my friends and colleagues. It couldn't have been a coincidence, but if he knew I was there in that bar, I don't know why he didn't kill me. I contacted the FBI as soon as I left. They gave me a ticket to Indiana, but I couldn't do it anymore… I bought a ticket to New York, came straight over here."

"And Kathleen. Is she doing okay?"

Elliot shrugs, bobs his head a little. "I think so," he says. "From what I've seen on her social media and the digging I've done, it seems like she put her life together after that."

He left before he could even help Kathleen through her trauma, Olivia realizes. Hell, he had to leave his entire family, completely disconnect from them. Olivia runs her hand through her hair. "I don't know what to say, El. I… I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I'm okay."

"We'll get Hackett, El." Olivia assures him. "We'll find him and get your life back."

Elliot shakes his head. "Look, this is a lot of information for one night. Why don't we get some rest? We can talk more tomorrow."

"Okay," she says.

They walk to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and she's thinking through everything. The more she understands about what he's endured, the more her anger dissipates. There's more they'll have to work through, but her heart toward him is healing, and right now, it's tied to him and the pain he's working through.

They reach her door and he continues to walk toward his. "'Night, Liv," he says.

She grabs his hand and he turns around. She says nothing, just tilts her head toward her bedroom.

Elliot's eyebrows raise, surprised. "You sure?" he asks.

She nods, brushes her hand over his face intimately, like she's really seeing him for the first time since he's been back. "I'm sure."

He follows her into the bedroom and they take their sides of the bed. When they climb in, they scoot toward each other, their faces almost touching, legs tangling, her head over his outstretched arm, their outer arms resting between them, fingers loosely interlocking. It's a position they perfected long ago, and within minutes, they both fall into a deep, restful sleep.

…

There are a few moments when she's not sure if the ringing is in her dream or real life. It takes her a minute to pull herself out of such a peaceful coma, but finally, she registers the phone lighting up on her nightstand. She reaches for it, feeling the weight of someone's arm, and it all comes back to her.

She looks back, and a she's hit with a sweet nostalgia of another time, waking up in bed with Elliot's arm wrapped around her, his body cocooning hers. She slips out of his hold while grabbing the phone, answering on her way out of the room, hoping to let her ex-partner sleep.

"Benson," she answers quietly.

"Sorry to wake you, Liv," Fin says.

"What's up?" She hears chatter and sirens in the background, looks at the time. 3:50AM.

"You know I don't normally pull you out of bed this early anymore, but do you think Lucy could come in early for Noah? We've got a situation."

"What is it?"

"That ring you busted in Chicago… It seems like it was separate from the one Hackett worked here, he didn't just move the business, he started a completely separate ring. And he put everything on hold while he was away, including feeding the kids. We just found three dead girls washed up in the Hudson. Evidence of years of sexual abuse, but died of starvation."

"Oh my god." Olivia thinks about what Elliot told her—about how many more kids there were that needed to be found if Hackett didn't take them with him to Chicago. Elliot said there were around thirty. He got seven out, three just washed up, that leaves at least twenty, but that was four years ago. "We've got to find the rest, Fin. There could be dozens more."

"I know."

"And we're sure they're from Hackett's ring?"

"It doesn't seem like he's trying to hide it anymore, like he's taunting us," Fin says. "They each have the initials GH branded on the back of their necks."

"Gerald Hackett," she gathers. "Okay. I'll be in as soon as possible."

"Think Lucy will come this early? You can bring the little guy to the station for a while if you need to."

Olivia looks back to her room. "I'll figure something out."


End file.
